


crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes

by folklores



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, impromptu fic get, or sth, set like six years after the series starts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folklores/pseuds/folklores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's still not used to getting to live his life in any amount of peace, and yet here he is, standing in the middle of Home Depot, letting Stiles hold up paint swatches next to his temples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inquisitioned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitioned/gifts).



> uwu* written on a whim for my boo, based on a quick exchange we had about it. Happy anniversary, sunshine.

Derek should probably be used to strange things happening in his life by now.

He's turning twenty-nine at the end of the year, has been back in Beacon Hills for nearly as long as he'd been away, and he's lost track of how many supernatural threats have filtered through town ever since. There's even been these hunter brothers that Chris had to chase out before they stuck their noses into their business, because they would never leave until most of the supernatural population had been taken care of.

Unfortunately, at this point, that includes a rather big number. Most of which would just like to live their lives in peace.

Which is probably why this comes off as particularly strange to Derek. He's still not used to getting to live his life in any amount of peace, and yet here he is, standing in the middle of Home Depot, letting Stiles hold up paint swatches next to his temples.

"Why are we doing this, again?"

Stiles looks him in the eyes, then at the swatch to the right, then his eyes again, then the swatch on the left. He chews a little at his lower lip-- which is incredibly distracting, in a very public place, and Derek furrows his brow at him for it-- before repeating the process with one eye squinted shut. "I'm trying to pick a color for the bedroom."

He can't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "And you're... picking based on, what. My eye color?"

"Dude, you don't have just _one_ eye color. Like what are they even listed as on your driver's license? 'cause I don't think you even have one solid color when you're all--" he draws his hands back, swatches held clumsily between his knuckles as he claws his fingers and mock-snarls. He's still not any better at it, five, six years later. "So, yeah. I'm trying to pick a color based on your crazy eyes."

For a moment, Derek tries to decide if he's bemused or amused. It gives Stiles enough time to switch swatches, picking two more to hold up to his face. He settles on looking a little bit of both, cocking his head the slightest bit. "You know, most people pick paint color based on their furniture, not their significant other's eyes."

"You're going to make the furniture anyways," Stiles points out, looking between a dark, forest green and deep, navy blue.

As he waffles between the two colors, an employee comes up, looking just as bemused as Derek feels. He can't blame her. "Sir, do you need help with something?"

Apparently Stiles is more than willing to drag other people into this ridiculous venture, and he immediately turns towards her with a serious look on his face. (Derek can catch the glint in his eyes, mischevious and warming the amber in the whiskey-gold. He wants to talk about impossible eyes?) "Yeah, do you have any like. Bigger swatches?"

While she smiles politely, confusion all the more evident as Stiles goes back to looking at the ones in his hands, she does go to look through the swatches for him. Derek tries not to laugh, and instead reaches to draw Stiles in by his belt loops.

"You're ridiculous."

That glint's still there as he leans in to bump his nose against his temple, before dropping a kiss there. "You like it-- now, how about honeysuckle?" He smacks the swatch up next to his cheek, grinning in the close space between them. "Or viridian? Nothing more pretentious than viridian."

Derek just laughs.


End file.
